The Blue Lotus

She had never made friends easily, not deliberately choosing to remain private, but out of a sense of misplaced shame at her own inadequacies she had become lonely if not alone.

At times of melancholy, she became angry at the creeping thought to blame her father and mother for the depleted confidence instilled in her. She found the business world was a frustrating and inadequate environment.

Some days she was overwhelmed, feeling that she was overqualified for her job of sitting within a team of women the same age as her daughter arranging support needs for accident victims over the telephone. Occasionally she would work up the courage to apply for something more senior, only to reach the interview stage and fail miserably. She knew that her inability to feel pride towards her achievements outwardly appeared insincere and interviews became more abhorrent each time she dashed from the room feeling worthless and ashamed.

Her lack of confidence hadn't always been an obvious failing. There were large amounts of her life that had involved intense study, travel, experimental career and life choices, but these had only served to separate her further from her business colleagues. Her colleagues thought of her as friendly and often helpful but somewhat threatening and never to be taken too seriously.

And so, Genevieve focused her considerable energy and determination on being fit and positive. She disciplined herself to run twice a week, attend a cycling class at the local gym and try to improve her golf handicap on the weekends. Her household was kept mostly in order and she escaped by short swims in the sea in the warmer weather and sewing and ironing while watching slick romantic liaisons on TV when cold and wet outside.

It was at this time that an unexpected happiness settled around Genevieve's world. And with this happiness, a sneaking suspicion that her loneliness was about to end.

It was a Friday when the letter arrived, proclaiming that there was a parcel at the post office awaiting her. She tried to focus on the excitement at knowing that there was a parcel rather than the underlying anxiety of not knowing what it could be or who it was from. It was not her birthday or near Christmas. Occasionally soft sellers would disappoint by sending scandalously overpriced offers for the continuation of delivery of unwanted third rate novels, and she supposed that this was what it was. Standing in line at the post office in her lunchbreak, she pondered on whether it was unfair to cause a person to feel disappointment versus the addition of a small excitement for a time in a somewhat ordinary day.